I since pocketed these Letters of late
The Name which spelled Indifference to me
Though Un-Faulted, salt those Trenches of Hate
Are those my Performance has come to be
So that Lesson - engraved - frown this Compass
To which this Arrow de-values the One
As such looked to Heal; And oil-out this Pass
To let my Weights submit and prove un-done
Yet, sooner or later, such Plant out-grows
And release its Denser Fruits long did bear
Realise, its Pulp too sweetened it blows
Sugar to Poison; Much my throat will tear.
My Uncle once stood, and stood in Divine
The Heart does not breathe; But bellows in Mind.